The Siege
by Ainille
Summary: She felt smothered. The pod was far too cramped for two. Blood was smeared on her hands and arms. He was next to her with his face turned away and his blood staining the cushioned wall. She could hear him struggle to breath now. Staring up at the hazy violet light, she thought of home and waited for the blue orb to appear in the glass window... Alternate universe.
1. Filth

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**THE SIEGE**

By Ainille

Dragon Ball Z, alternate universe

The setting takes place during Vegeta Saga.

Rating: M for violence, language and suggestive content.

**Disclaimer:**

The worlds, characters and settings of Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z,

Dragon Ball GT and any other subsidiary content are all owned by Akira Toriyama.

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**Chapter I**

_**Filth**_

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Rain.

It was always raining here. Everyday. Every single, seemingly endless day on this filthy planet, it rained. It was so proper, so perfect a setting for this life, the life she had come to accept. This planet, this ragged excuse for a place to call home, was not Earth. Not her home. And the people, the wretched creatures. The only native creatures remaining of this forsaken hell weren't of the civilized sorts, though nor were the visitors to be fair. No, this hellish planet was known by some travelers as "Nin", or by the more offensive individuals as "Freiza Planet 35". A planet of few cities and plentiful in deadly marshes and unstable rivers, few could bare to survive here. The buildings, made of foreign materials, struggled to stand amid the endless downpour. In this "Shangri-la", as Chi Chi lovingly called it, were a few decrepit buildings here and there. There was a crooked inn across from her window and a pub next to that.

She placed a hand to the glass, pushing the tattered curtain away to peer through the cracks. Quite a few today, though none too troublesome thus far. More were surely to come as the rain wore on and night brought a cooler atmosphere, brought them inside to the warmth of the women. Disappointed, she sat on the mattress with bare legs drawn to her chest as she looked out and up past the clouds, past this revolting existence. Someday, she would find her way back. She reminded herself of that vow everyday before she rose and placed her feet on the frigid, stone floor. The heavier gravity of this planet was unsettling still. The weight made her own feet a burden but she was becoming accustomed to that. The acquired strength would be of use in the future, she reasoned.

Placing a hand on either side of her rib cage, she rubbed the flesh carefully. She was hungry, her evermore protruding ribs and grumbling belly insisted. She would have to shirk that need for now. Looking around the cramped room, she noted the grim cemented walls on which burgundy paint of some sort was smeared haphazardly. Though she hoped it was paint. Two battered and thinned beds were pressed against each side of the rooms, a foot or so apart. Both were barren with the exception of two tattered bed sheets. A three legged table leaned against the wall next to the decrepit door. A melted candle sat atop the damaged surface, dripping wax. With an ounce of bravery, she reached for the doorknob and ventured into the hallway. To her left she could hear some sort of horrid music, a screeching cacophony coupled with a the wails of a woman or two. To her right extended a long hallway of several more doors that lead to rooms like her own. At the end of the hall a nude woman lay on the filthy floor, her naked arms and legs sprawled as she drooled onto the cement. She could only imagine what kind of sickening occurrence this woman endured before crumbling in this hallway.

A sigh was all she could give for sympathy. The woman, like herself, was an earthing; kidnapped with many others and forced into this life when Earth fell into disarray. But she didn't want to think about that right now. Trudging down the hallway, she stepped over the poor creature, and moved through the open doorway into the dressing room. Two broken looking women, one human and the other some sort of reptilian creature dressed in torn lingerie, sat on a battered sofa that was pressed against the far wall. They said nothing to her as she passed. A row of wobbly vanity tables lined the room, all featuring broken or missing bulbs wrapped around large mirrors. A closet with missing doors to her left was filled with various pieces of risque clothing. A metal tub of grimy water sat in the middle of the room; it was slowly leaking from a hole on one side. It was humid in here.

Standing in front of the closet, she picked through the clothing and chose a white, lace brassiere that was undoubtedly too small for her. Moving towards one of the mirrors, she wrinkled her nose at the distinct smell in the room. Turning her head, she noticed the human woman lift a poorly wrapped cigarette to her mouth with a shaking hand. Surely, that must have been her payment for the day. Eyes closed, the woman took a long drag then let her head fall back onto the couch and her messy hair fell backwards, revealing a sunken face. She would have been beautiful. The reptile took the cigarette and put it to her mouth.

Turning back to the table, she noted a few tubes of lipstick and opened palettes of makeup. Placing her hands at the hem of her sullied nightgown, she pulled it up and over her head and let it fall to the floor. She faced the woman in the mirror. Everyday she did so, her gaze focused on the blue that remained in the woman's eyes. Picking up a hairbrush, she combed through her azure hair for a moment then applied a few dabs of the lipstick to her dried lips. With great distaste, she pulled the brassiere over her arms and fumbled with the clasp on her back. Returning to the closet, she pulled on a pair of torn stockings and wrapped her waist in a tight garter belt. Finally, she peered into the mirror a final time and gave herself a small nod in encouragement. Turning, she slipped on a pair of white stilettos and grimaced at the pain in the arches of her feet.

As she ventured towards the door, someone blocked her path, nearly tripping over the unconscious woman on the floor. Chi Chi stood in the doorway; her ebony hair was pulled into a unmanageable braid and she was dressed in black corset and skirt. She insisted that if she was forced to dressed this way then she would wear a much of it as possible.

"Oh, Bulma," she said as she crossed her arms, "The bat is asking where you were. I would have given her a piece of my mind but I'm starting to think that doesn't work."

She could have realized that many bruises ago, but it's difficult to cage a tiger like Chi Chi.

"I know, I know," Bulma replied, brushing past her friend.

"Well, good luck," Chi Chi grumbled as she followed her down the dark hallway and stopped at their shared room. Placing hand on the doorknob she gave a quick wave, "I'll be here if you need me."

Bulma nodded and ventured towards the curtained exit.

"Hey," a small call came from behind her. Turning, she noted Chi Chi had her head pressed against the door. A disheartened expression had formed on her delicate features. After a moment, she murmured, "When is this going to end?"

Bulma couldn't form an answer to reassure her. She wondered the same herself. Would it end with death? It seemed that would be the most plausible. For almost two years, Chi Chi and Bulma resided in this miserable place, scrounging for food and warmth. If it weren't for Chi Chi, she probably wouldn't make it through this nightmarish ordeal. Her muddled thoughts were interrupted by a small cry.

"Goku," Chi Chi barely breathed the word, "Why did you abandon me...?"

So many times Bulma watched Chi Chi slip into this accursed dogma. When the Siege of Earth came, none of them were prepared. Bulma recalled watching ships fall from the sky like shooting stars and collide into the earth with thunderous explosions. Hundreds of them. She recalled inhuman creatures flying through the skies and the screams of panicked citizens. Goku had promised he would protect the world, like he always had and always did. But this time, he fell and then without a single word, vanished. And everything crumbled from then on.

Perhaps he had been killed and though she could have offered the option of wishing Goku to return, Bulma felt it would prove no use at this point. Instead, she placed a gentle hand on each of Chi Chi's shoulders and with a weakened smile said, "We're going to make it out of here soon. I promise."

Chi Chi stared at her with knitted brows, unbelieving. Finally, she offered a feeble reply, "Okay..."

"I promise," Bulma echoed, turning to leave, "Now get some sleep."

Stepping towards the curtain, she heard the door slowly open then close behind her followed by a hushed cry. Forcing herself to shirk the aching in her chest, Bulma pulled back the velvet curtain and peered into the lounge. The room was that of a typical whorehouse; several stages lined the walls where stone-faced women, some human, preened and danced before groups of prodding men of various species, all revolting. Couches were placed anywhere space allowed around the lounge. On them sat patrons with a courtesan, maybe two, crowded around him as he reached a grubby hand towards them. The lounge filled with obscene laughter that tore through the blaring din that was the music. Corridors leading to private parlors were often left open, revealing a grungy scene of the sexual nature.

"There you are!" A voice hissed as Bulma felt a tightened grip around her arm pull her through the curtain.

A positively vile looking woman with a flattened face and crooked black eyes was shouting something in Bulma's face, though her raspy voice was diminished by the music. She had long claws at the ends of her long fingers that scraped the flesh of her arm as she was dragged through the lounge. This ghastly creature was known only as Madame by her "girls". Stopping in front of a black door, Madame held Bulma still by the arm.

"Listen to me, you little rat," The ghoulish woman snapped as she pointed at the door, "We have a few of Freiza's soldiers here tonight. One fuck up and you're history, understand me?"

The tone suggested a wrong answer warranted a nasty result. But as prideful as she was raised to be, Bulma couldn't help but retort, "No, care to inform me?"

Pressing her claws to Bulma's neck, she seethed, "You-"

The sound of an empty shot glass colliding with the door from the inside interrupted her inevitable punishment. Lowering her hand, Madame let a loud cackle escape her toothy mouth, "Looks like you'll get what's coming to you in due time!"

With that, the wretched woman disappeared into the bright glare of the tinted lights. Frowning in humiliation, Bulma faced the door and glared at the peeling black paint. She felt a pang of disgust in her empty stomach. She could look past the distasteful touch of the patrons that marred this place day in and day out. But whenever it is was Freiza's soldiers, it was an insult to the festering injury that still lingered. It was they that brought her here, they who exterminated so many on her home planet. And every time, she would have silence herself and take it.

She heard a drunken shout from inside. It couldn't be ignored for any longer. Placing a hand on the tacky gold doorknob, she entered them room and faced quite an unsightly group. There were three men, all seated in garish red couches. They were still dressed in armor for the most part. Shot glasses littered the floor, including the one that had struck the door moments before. Two of them were positively giddy over the two women that were both perched on the wobbly table between them. Both women were human and one of them, a heavily bruised young thing, was struggling against the tears pouring down her face as she slowly gyrated in front of them.

The third man, who was considerably smaller than the two brutes, sat between them with eyes closed and a vindictive expression on his face. Evidently, he wasn't here of his own accord.

Upon seeing her come in, one of the large men heralded her appearance by shouting, "Ah, look at this one!"

Bulma advanced further into the cramped room. A bottle some sort of foul liquor still sat half-empty on the table near dancers feet. A crude painting of some sexual encounter between two buxom alien women was hung crookedly on a wall. Closing the the door, she stood with balled fists. She relaxed them upon realizing.

The other man, the largest and with a bald head and mustached grin, turned his head to give her a malicious stare. Standing, he loomed over her and Bulma felt her heart sink into her stomach. He observed her for several moments, his black eyes struggling to focus on a single part of her. He settled on her hair, "Look at this hair, how nice."

Taking a handful of it in his massive hands, he pulled her close to which she instinctively shoved herself away with a grimace. He was not pleased by this.

Grabbing her by the shoulders with an incredible vice grip, the oaf turned and shoved her into the middle of the room where she fell onto the grimy floor. Bulma felt rage fill her being, but she forced herself to remain silent. These foul men! Rattled, she couldn't shake the notion that they seemed all too familiar. Undoubtedly, they had been on Earth during the Siege.

Kneeling over her, the drunken oaf gripped her jaw and tipped her head back to stare into her face. With his other hand and a vicious laugh, he grabbed at her breast like a child would torment an insect. Gritting her teeth, she fought back a scream. This certainly hadn't been the most unusual treatment she had received from a patron but these...these villains! They had taken away all she had. It didn't seem they intended on sullying her or the other women here. Their only intention, it appeared, was to prod and humiliate them. That, somehow, seemed worse a treatment. Any of the other patrons here understood the were as lowly as any of the women. But these men, they jeered and flaunted their stature with obvious awareness.

"Hey, this little bitch looks pissed!" The oaf before her shouted with a roaring cackle. Wrapping his fingers around her brassiere, he ripped it away from her body and it shredded. Bulma couldn't help but relent and she let an aggravated shriek escape her lips. With overwhelming rage, she leaned back to kick him away but he swiftly caught her ankle in his hand as is catching a fly.

"Aren't you feisty!" The oaf turned his head and addressed his comrade with long ragged black hair who had both of the other women pressed against him on either side. Despair was evident on their faces. The bald oaf went on, "I think this one is perfect for Vegeta, don't you think?"

A laughter in response suggested concurrence and with that, Bulma was yanked to her feet and shoved onto the filthy red couch. Eyes focused on the approaching oaf, she had one arm shielding her naked chest and the other propped her up. One of her shoes had been lost in the excursion.

"I have no interest in any of the filth that wallows in this foul place, Nappa," a hoarse voice declared from behind her.

"C'mon, Vegeta," the boisterous fool before her argued, his grin disappearing for only a moment, "How often do we get to party! It's back to the usual grind after this!"

"This is a complete waste of our time!" The one dubbed Vegeta, replied with apparent frustration with arguing with this drunken idiot, "We should be searching for Kakarot, not fooling around with the diseased scum of the universe!"

Kakarot. That name was very familiar to Bulma. She racked her brain as the two squabbled about necessity. She remembered that named being used for something, someone. Turning her head, she glanced at the man surrounded by the two women. He was the most familiar. But from where!

Goku. The revelation struck her harder then the wretched gravity of this planet. This is the terrible man who first attacked Earth, who had referred to Goku by such a name and was struck down by him. And he had returned with an army in tow. The wound she had for so long struggled to keep from bleeding was ripping open and the wicked truth of the past two years was bursting forth. She remembered them; they had laughed wildly at the dying men, women and children. They stole her away from her family... from Yamcha. They did all this and for what?

"You!" Bulma's voice was filled with malice as she scowled at Radditz, who returned her stare with befuddlement. She torqued her scowl towards the shorter of the three, who was glaring at her with either astonishment or wrath towards her outburst.

"You're looking for Goku?" She demanded and a short silence filled the crowded room for a few moments. The music was reduced to a dense reverberation on the peeling walls. The two women were wide-eyed as they stared at Bulma, fearing she had endangered them, though she probably had. But Bulma was unperturbed, exchanging scowls with each of the three men, awaiting an explanation as if she were lecturing three troublesome children.

"Eh, what?" The oaf, Nappa was able to stammer through his abhorrent drunkenness.

"Why are looking for Goku?" She demanded further as she turned to lean over the grimy table in between them, "Is he alive? Do you know he is alive?"

Vegeta, evidently heard enough, rose and grasped her forearm with alarming swiftness. It would take nothing at all to crush the frail bones in her arm and she could feel he was strongly challenging that possibility. He leaned into her face and demanded with seething fury, "Who is this Goku? Are you referring to Kakarot by that name?!"

Overtaken with fear, Bulma said nothing.

"Speak, damned woman!" He ordered, loudly.

Radditz, as if struck with an epiphany, shoved the sobbing woman next to him off the couch and she landed harshly on the floor. He stood and pointed at Bulma, "I thought you looked familiar," he paused to think further then added with a harsh tone, "Yeah, this bitch was Kakarot's little slut!"

He had remembered falsely, but it was enough for Vegeta who snapped in her face, "Where is Kakarot?!"

Realizing she had bitten off more than she could chew, she wrenched her arm from his grasp in great pain. She stumbled off the couch and crawled on the floor, kicking off her remaining stiletto and hearing shot glasses skid around the room. And she eluded Nappa who was too intoxicated at this point to stop her. As she flung the door open, she was greeted with blaring music and many aghast faces who must have heard the shouting somehow. Followed by the two women, Bulma ran through the crowd, hearing wrathful shouting coming from the room behind her. Madame blocked her path through the velvet curtain, her only haven.

"Little bitch," She wailed, grabbing Bulma by the arm again, "What happened?!"

"Nothing, I feel sick," She lied, poorly.

"Ah, out of my sight!" Madame shouted over the music, shoving Bulma through the curtain. Falling to the floor, she was blanketed with darkness as the curtain fell, shielding the bright lights. She lay there for a moment, feeling the cold floor against her body. The shouting had diminished under the din and no one had pursued her beyond the curtain. She was overwhelmed with a feeling she couldn't understand. She couldn't comprehend if she was hopeful that Goku was alive or terrified that these terrible men were looking for him. What did it change? If Goku was alive, why did he leave Earth. Would he be able to face these terrible men when they inevitably found.

A door opened above her.

"Bulma!" Chi Chi shrieked, already by Bulma's side. Rolling her onto her back, Chi Chi helped her into a sitting position, "What's going on?"

Standing, Bulma urged Chi Chi back into the room and promptly slammed the door behind her. Guiding her to one of the beds, Bulma wrapped Chi Chi in a tight embrace.

Bulma felt herself being overcome with emotions she had struggled to conceal for two years. The consuming desire to feel the touch of a friend, the sound of her ditzy mother and the kiss from someone who loved her. She was eased to have Chi Chi's embrace now.

"What happened, Bulma?" Chi Chi whispered, petting her hair.

Bulma struggled with the decision to tell her. Giving the woman false hope would only be cruel at this juncture. She decided against it reluctantly.

"N-nothing," Bulma stammered, wiping away a tear, "I just feel sick, I think I need to sleep."

"Of course," Chi Chi stood and encouraged Bulma to lie back as she situated the tattered bed sheet over her, "I'll go find you something to eat. Try to sleep for now."

Moments later, she was gone and Bulma lay staring up through the darkness. She decided it would be best if she put the encounter behind her, nothing good would come from dwelling on it. If Goku was alive, he was far, far from her and Chi Chi and any hope she hope she had for Earth or her return to it was quickly waning. With a deep sigh, she let a deep slumber overtake her.

_...She stood and watched the golden orb emerge through the brooding, black clouds that fled from the growing light and taking refuge behind the distant foothills. The vivid glow broke and chased away the rain and mud. Beneath her bare feet, fresh green grass burst forth from the filth and she watched as it spread over the cascading fields. Brilliant colors filled the sky over her head; an overwhelming palette of hues. It had been too long. She was home._

_In the distance she could see a great metropolis. Towering white structures extended into the sky, some with bright lights fading with the growing sunlight. Her chest swelled with joy and she began to run. She felt so weightless, so light. Crossing a hill, she was stunned to find everyone standing and waiting for her; her mother, father, Yamcha, Krillin, Goku, everyone. Their faces greeted her with silent smiles._

_With an extended hand, she reached for them. She paused to watched a shooting star sail through the sky over the city. Then another followed by hundreds. Then a scream. _

_Screams._

Bulma's eyes fluttered opened. Groggy, she sat up and rubbed at her heavily fatigued face. It was dark still but she was uncertain whether it had been moments or hours since she had fallen into her troubled slumber. She turned her body and swung her legs over the edge of the battered mattress and felt the familiar cold beneath her feet. She sighed once and hugged her arms tightly as she hung her head. Sitting in the silence, she noticed the music had stopped which was particularly rare. She felt an uneasiness in her stomach as she reached out to the mattress across from her and felt nothing.

Then a resounding scream filled the hall. Immediately, Bulma was standing and her mind was filled with fear over Chi Chi's safety. In a panicked frenzy, she fumbled with the bed sheet, tightly wrapping it around her body. She headed for the door and reluctantly placed her hand on the doorknob. Peering into the hallway, she noticed nearly all the bedroom doors were swung open and she heard distinct cries coming from the dressing room and even more from beyond the curtain.

Before she was able to step out, she heard a crashing noise from the lounge; the sound of shattering glass followed by continued screaming. It wasn't the ordinary screams normally heard in this place. They were anguished and frantic. Then she heard a shouting she did not wish to hear.

"She's probably back here!" A gruff voice called from beyond the curtain. A moment later, the velvet curtain was shredded and an incredible light flooded the hallway. The light shoved her back into the room with an incredible force and she couldn't contain a frightened yelp. She lay on the floor, blanketed with dust. The ground was shaking and a she felt crevice splitting the stone beneath her hand. The door was hanging haphazardly from one hinge.

"Nappa, you idiot," a familiar voice scolded from elsewhere in the building, "She is of no use if you kill her now!"

"Yeah, yeah," Nappa responded from somewhere too close for comfort. Frantic, Bulma rolled onto her stomach and crawled under one of the beds, cautious not to slash her skin on the hanging wires. The sound of something smashed nearby startled her. She placed both hands over her mouth and struggled to still her hastened breath. The great light had diminished, leaving faint light from outside in its wake. Thick dust filled the air and she had to cover her nose to resist a cough.

It must have been some sort of attack like Goku's Kamehameha, though far more wicked. Suddenly, two large white boots obscured her view and before Bulma could still her excited heart the bed and its frame were slung into the air with ease. With a shriek, she watched in horror as it clashed with the window, sending glass in all directions. Rain water poured in from the newly opened orifice in the wall.

"There you are," Nappa declared with a cackling chuckle, "Must be a natural instinct. You humans were always good at hiding!"

He took a fist full of her hair and dragged her to her feet. She howled in pain, clutching the bed sheet to her being.

"True warriors never hide!" He laughed wildly again.

Bulma struggled against his grasp as he pulled her through the door and into the rubble that was the hallway. Facing away from his as he dragged her, she could see into the dressing room through the dust. Blood of many different colors stained the floor and walls. The previous cries were silent now.

All of a sudden, she was thrown into the lounge. Laying on her stomach she could smell fire and feel its intense heat on her flesh. Burning flesh was nearby. She could feel Nappa standing over her and the sound of his horrid laughter made her shudder. He took a handful of her hair again and forced her into a kneeling position where she could see the catastrophe that had unfolded in full. Fire engulfed the stages where naked women wallowed in agony. Much of the entryway was absent completely and rain rushed in unimpeded. The blood of the dead was splattered on every surface. On the other side of the room stood Vegeta with his arms crossed and smirk on his face as he observed her with wicked satisfaction. Radditz was but steps behind him, bent over the mangled corpse of Madame. Propped against a wall, her head was bent unnaturally to one side and a crude blue blood dribbled onto the floor.

Lightheaded and nauseated, Bulma felt warm blood dripping from her cheek and shards of glass still stuck to her skin. Her mind raced, among the dead she couldn't see Chi Chi. How would she have survived? Her head swam in fear. What did they want...?

"Finally," Vegeta declared impatiently, "I've had enough of this putrid planet."

With a roaring laugh, Nappa attempted to force Bulma onto her feet but she crumbled. A screeching ring filled her ears and she could hear them damning her but it didn't matter. She let herself be enveloped by the white noise. Moments later, she was lost in the void of unconsciousness.

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	2. Demands

**Thank you for all the suggestions, feedback and words of encouragement. **

**They are deeply appreciated!**

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**THE SIEGE**

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**Chapter II**

_**Demands**_

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_Instinct urged her to flee the city, to go somewhere, anywhere. But she couldn't leave; everything precious to her existed among these collapsing buildings. Racing through the rumbling streets, chaos erupted all around her. People scattered like livestock as they were hunted and slaughtered. Children, the most heartrending of all, stood and screamed alone in the crowd. There was nothing to be done about it now. Ahead of her, a hideous, green creature dressed in blue armor levitating over the street had an overturned vehicle held over his head. With a toothy cackle, he threw it into the crowd. _

_Evading behind a row of abandoned vehicles, she continued on with a hand clasped over her nose and mouth. Keeping to the ground, she watched several alien men soar through the sky, unleashing massive beams of energy that slashed through buildings and streets. In the distance, a skyscraper crumbled, filling the air with a thick cloud of dust and debris. People rushed passed her, shoving her in their panicked states as they searched for some safe exit. A half hanging street sign directed her towards Capsule Corp._

_Pressing on, glass cut at her bare feet but it couldn't impede her now. She had to get to Capsule, to her family. She would be safe there in the underground compound where her father and mother were certainly hiding. It had sufficient room to house hundreds of people but she couldn't gather them now in this carnage._

_She could see the security house a few meters ahead and the main building beyond that. In the empty parking lot, a large, grotesque creature had a small girl in one tight grip, holding her high above his repulsive head as the child shrieked in fright. She could have pushed on past him and made her way without garnering the fiend's attention. But she couldn't abandon the child, not without a fight even if it was in vain. Hidden behind a dumpster, she frantically searched for a weapon of some sort. There was an unearthed metal street post and the sign was missing. Mustering up whatever courage she could find, grabbed one end of the post and raced towards the monster. His back was too her and he still held the child, who could see her approaching. _

_Summoning all her strength, she swung towards the monsters massive skull. The sharpened metal struck him hard and he wailed in obvious pain, dropping the defenseless child. Blood poured from his head as she spun to face her with surprising speed. Barring yellowed teeth, he grabbed for her and she fell back. Regaining her footing quickly, she swung again struck him square in the face. Eyes closed, he grabbed his haggard face in pain. Dropping the pole with a loud clatter, she rose and ran towards the child who stopped a few feet away to watch in sobbing horror._

_Snatching the girl and pulling her into her arms, she ran as fast as her bloodied feet would carry her. The safety of her beloved Capsule Corp was ahead and an inevitable death followed closely behind._

Bulma could feel an excruciating pain dwelling in her head as she came to. She kept her eyes welded shut, listening for some distinction about her location. The floor was frigid and her cheek sticky with her drying blood. Slowly, she raised a hand to her eyes as she attempted to shield them from the glaring lights. It was blindingly bright, wherever she was. Suddenly, reality fully caught up with her and she sprang into a seated position, glancing every which way in search of Chi Chi.

She was in a small, polished room that was absent of furniture aside from a stripped bed. Whoever dropped her here must have established the floor as the more appropriate spot for her. The tall, white walls were barren and there was the prevalent humming of some machinery beyond them. The cerulean floor had a blinding luster and she could see a bloodied and beaten face staring up at her. It was too.. clean here; no mud, no filth. Placing a shaken hand on the bed, Bulma pulled herself to her feet to peer out the reinforced window. There was nothing but an empty, black void beyond. It didn't take much deliberating to tell she was on some sort of spacecraft. She placed a hand to her lips to contain a scream.

Sitting on the uncomfortable bed, Bulma clutched the damp bed sheet that had been left with her to her being. She listened to the low rumbling and wrestled with racing thoughts. She had been taken from Nin and in any other case she probably would have been overjoyed. But she remained in uncertainty over Chi Chi's location. She was probably long gone by now. And all the carnage! All the grueling murder that she had witnessed at the hands of Freiza's men. Again. The pitiful, lost women lay burning on the stage. Their charred bodies had suffered a final punishment; the image would remain burned in her mind. Among them, Chi Chi possibly. Bulma placed both hands to her face to satiate a hushed sob. She was so hungry.

They were here, no doubt. They had left Bulma in this empty chamber and now that she had woken, they would surely return to torment her. They wanted to find Goku. Why?

Bulma closed her eyes, pondering. It had been the image of paradise that day. The golden sun smiled upon a peaceful Earth; beckoning the newly birthed life of the spring. It had been five long years that she had been without Goku and she had been so eager to see him again. Roshi was the same as ever; a dirty-minded old man with an infliction for young women. He had been particularly glad to see her again. Bulma smiled at the memory. Standing on the shoreline, she had gazed out into the choppy ocean, basking in the warm sunlight and gently breeze. Then she could see him approach, soaring through the open sky without a care.

It was a surprise to meet his young son; he displayed his lovely mother's qualities. But he was an energetic child, much like Goku when she met him. And like his father, his current whereabouts were unknown to Bulma. The poor child...She couldn't bear the thought. When Radditz had arrived on earth, a heavy feeling of dread fell upon the world. Gohan writhed in her arms as he screamed his father's name. Goku had been so upset to hear of his wicked heritage.

Then Radditz had been defeated by Goku, bested by his younger brother and the world rejoiced! But the foiled Saiyan escaped alive and Goku, though victorious had been terribly wounded.

Piccolo had been the only one to foresee the arrival of Freiza's fleet. He had warned that Radditz may have comrades that he would doubtless return with. A Saiyan wouldn't swallow defeat so willingly and he had returned with reinforcements in tow. With Goku still recovering, no one was prepared. And chaos ensued... Bulma hastily flushed the memories from her head. Not now. Lifting her head, she stared at the barred metal door. She stood and dropped the bed sheet onto the bed before approaching the only exit. Hands pressed to the cold metal, she searched for a lever and handle but there was none. On the wall next to the door was a blank touch pad. It refused to respond to her probing.

Feeling hot anger swell in her chest, she planted a heavy fist against the metal but it hardly rattled. Defeated, she gave a noticeable scream and returned to the bed and sat with her head in her hands. The droning hum; it invaded her head. She imagined herself studying a machine in her lab that made that noise. She imagined feeling the warmth of metal; how she missed it. It certainly was more relaxing than the blaring din in the brothel had been.

Bulma's roaming thoughts were interrupted by the distinct shifting of the locks in the door. Her heart raced and she instinctively drew her legs onto the bed and wrapped herself in the sheet. A foreign symbol appeared on the touch pad and the door slid open. Radditz stood on the other side. For a moment, he observed her with an upturned nose of disgust. He was fully dressed in the peculiar white and gold armor that glinted in the light. She noticed a coarse, brown tail wrapped around his waist.

He advanced into the room and with his hardened gaze unmoving, he brushed his hand lightly over the touch pad. The door slid shut and Bulma felt any hope of escape sink into the wall behind her. She wished she could follow it and drift out to empty space.

"I swear, these pathetic creatures my brother insisted on protecting make me ill," Radditz spat, watching her huddle in the corner, "He abandoned his heritage to waste an eternity with lowly creatures like _you. _Kakarot had the potential and I saw it in him!"

With uncanny speed, he had a vice grip around her throat. He could almost completely wrap a single hand around her tiny neck. Unable to make the slightest yelp for the help she was certain wouldn't come, Bulma struggled against his grasp. He reeked of death, still bearing the blood of the life recently extinguished by those same hands. He screamed in her face, "Where is Kakarot, filthy whore?!"

As he lifted her up off the bed, Bulma dug her nails into the leathery skin of his arms but it was in vain. Mouth agape, she begged for a breath and he denied her. She urged her legs to move, to kick at him, but she hadn't the strength. He made a loud grunt in revulsion as he observed her squirming.

"So fragile," Radditz continued with his chastising amid her struggling, "and still you foul humans populate that planet in hiding, like vermin!"

The white noise was swallowing her again and his hoarse shouting became lost to the ringing. Bulma focused on the blinding light over his head.

"That is enough, Radditz," a voice reprimanded.

The Saiyan immediately dropped Bulma onto the bed and her lungs filled with air again. Coughing wildly, she was drawn back to reality. She lay there for a moment and the ringing slowly diminished and she could hear them squabbling.

"Enough!" Radditz retorted, "And I have had enough of your orders, you tail-less parasite!"

Several long moments of stale silence followed. Bulma remained still, staring at the glass. In the reflection, she could see Radditz with his back to her now as he glared intently at Vegeta, who responded with his own frigid scowl, undeterred. The tension lingered.

Radditz's gruff cackle shattered the silence; he shifted his weight as if in boredom. His grungy hair swept to and fro as he shook his head. Then he pressed further caustically, "But it is to be expected; my brother may have outdone me for now but I did escape with my tail intact. How careless of you. I can understant your urgency to find Kakarot but I fear it won't restore your honor."

Bulma watched a distinguishable expression of disdain form on Vegeta's face. The toxic comments poisoned the room and she watched the shorter man's hands curl into trembling fists. She feared Vegeta would send Radditz through the glass. Another moment of intense silence followed.

Then Vegeta, with an defiant smirk, turned his face away in disgust and responded, "Babble on as much as you like. I am your superior nonetheless and at the expense of my tail, I didn't flee with it safely between my legs."

"What was that?" Radditz snarled, appalled. Knees bent, he seemed prepared to lunge for Vegeta.

"Still confused, I see," the shorter of the two added with a brief laugh. Bulma observed Radditz as he visibly shuck with fury. Unrelenting, Vegeta provoked him further, "A true Saiyan warrior would have fought to the death, but you," he paused to regard the taller Saiyan with a venomous scowl, "you fled, like the weakling you are! 'Cry Baby Radditz', always struggling to keep up. I doubt I am the disgraced one among us."

Bulma cringed; a cold shudder traveled down her spine. She kept her eyes on the glass, studying Radditz in his certain defeat. But to her surprise, he relented his offensive stance and forced a growl of reluctant frustration.

"Now," Vegeta concluded as he half stepped away from the entryway, "begone."

After momentary defiance, Radditz exited the chamber, brushing past the shorter man with tamed irritation. Bulma heard a loud crash somewhere down a distant hallway followed by a damning expletive. She could hear him shouting until his voice vanished elsewhere in the ship. She watched Vegeta closely as he stared into the hallway after Radditz before he turned to face to the open chamber. Bulma felt deep dread build in her chest. He had been so reserved in the brothel the day before. A deep seeded hatred towards all things was evident; it was different and far darker in him than his two brutish comrades. He didn't appear to be the ordinary, hotblooded savage that Radditz had expressed the Saiyan race to be during his visit to Earth. No, Vegeta seemed far more vindictive than that; far more complex. Something had been stolen from him, something far more valuable to him than his tail.

Realizing he was observing closely, Bulma closed her eyes tightly and prayed he would find her unconscious and leave her be. But she could hear him approach slowly as if he were drawing out the encounter to incite her fear.

"Don't bother with this facade," his voice was low, "I know you are awake."

Bulma remained unmoving. Her frigid hands trembled uncontrollably. The only notion keeping her alive was her knowledge of Goku's whereabouts; which she knew nothing of. If she couldn't produce some sort of excuse, she would succumb to a dreadful fate thanks to her big mouth! She opened her eyes and peered out into empty space again and imagined her mutilated body drifting forever into the darkness. It seemed merciful.

"If you think Radditz's treatment to be an unforgiving torture," a swift hand took her by the jaw and rotated it painfully to face a pair of menacing, black eyes. Through gritted teeth,Vegeta added, "then I strongly suggest you do not provoke me, woman."

His fingers pressed firmly against her jaw, Bulma could feel a sharp sting on her cheek. Blood slowly dribbled down her face again. Petrified with fright, she stared intently into his eyes. They were deep and nightmarish. A blackened soul dwelled within. His ink black hair reminded her of a dark flame that came to a deep point on his forehead, directing her to deeply drawn brows and back to his fierce gaze. What morbid things these eyes must have witnessed. And his hands; how many perished because of them?

"Where is Kakarot?" Vegeta demanded. The question was far more stringent from him compared to Radditz.

"Why are you looking for him?" She inquired, sheepishly. Inside, frustration was building; it was unlike her, to submit. Nearly two years spent in silent subjugation Bulma had endured and the unspoken ire was clawing its way up her throat. It had felt liberating to confront the treatment the day prior, though it had cost her dearly. But why stop now? Her fate was most certainly cemented. They wouldn't spare her and there was nothing for her to lose. She had lost it all already.

"That is not the concern of a lowly whore," Vegeta replied curtly as his harsh grip tightened, "I order you, answer me now!"

"I am no _whore_!" Bulma screamed; her voice was hoarse. Slapping his hand away, she backed against the wall. His fists were clenched as if he would strike her but instead he simply glowered at her as if inconvenienced.

"It matters not to me what you are, woman, but understand if you don't tell me what you know, you're death will be an agonizing one," he warned through clenched teeth.

Bulma rolled her head to one side; starved and a severe ache in her skull, she shook off his threat with a scoff. She spat back, "And if I do, what then? You will kill me anyhow!"

Offended, Vegeta reached for her and she kicked at him. He swiftly caught her ankle, tearing her singed stocking, and using her momentary astonishment, he took her throat in his other hand. He couldn't have been much taller than Bulma but he was bent over her now; looming and dangerous. Her bare chest heaved in her heightened trepidation. The blood from her cheek stained his fingers and sullied the delicate fabric of her stocking. She surrendered a yelp.

Bulma would die. She had eluded death longer than many but no more. Her arms lay slack at her sides. She wouldn't fight him.

"I...I won't help you hurt him," the words were just audible enough.

Vegeta turned his head away from her undaunted gaze, he seemed to contemplate his next decision. She prayed it would be a swift choice. His crippling grip on her neck and ankle remained firm for several seconds. Then, with a growl, he shoved her away and backed away towards the doorway. Hands raised to her face, she watched him turn his back to her and pause in the hall.

"Next time, I won't be so merciful," his voice was low and impatient, "Think wisely of your decision, woman."

The metal door slid shut and the bolts tightened, sealing her within again. Alone, Bulma let herself slide onto the floor. The polished floor was cold and refreshing to her aching flesh. Droplets of blood were scattered sparsely. Rolling onto her back, she let the cool floor seep into her flesh. Her throbbing throat was warm to the touch. Smothered, she fumbled with the clasps of the garter belt still constricting her waist. Tossing it aside, she rubbed gingerly at the creases left in her skin. Then she dabbed at the stinging sore on her cheek with the corner of the sheet; blood stained the coarse fabric.

With a heavy heart, Bulma crawled lethargically onto the uninviting bed. The silence was thick and tangible except for the humming of the mysterious machine. It became one with the silence and faded into nothing in her distant mind. She placed a hand to the ivory wall to feel the weak vibration, warding off the numbing in her extremities.

_Goku_, she pondered, _could you really have escaped alive?...What will you do if Freiza or his men find you. If you really survived, I know you left for a reason. _

A small ounce of hope dwelled in her heart as she thought. According to Radditz, though it wasn't his intention to, had informed her that humans still lived on Earth. For now, Freiza hadn't destroyed it. Unable to sleep, she stared into the endless universe. A single, gleaming star gazed back, seeming to approach.

_oOo_

Such a pointless bother this had become. Was he, the prince of a such proud race, so desperate to find Kakarot even if it resorted to interrogating a befouled harlot? How absurd! But alas, they had quickly extinguished all other possibilities. Vegeta would find that damned Kakarot, no matter the cost. Months spent on that wretched planet, he had come to understand Kakarot's ability to sense, to study the atmosphere for another's energy. No more did they rely those defective scouters. When Kakarot fled, he felt his energy diminish, but it hadn't died off. For days, Vegeta scoured that planet and nothing; Kakarot had escaped.

But no matter. Vegeta would find him wherever he had found refuge. He would further understand how he had gathered such power, then he would destroy Kakarot! He would seek retribution for his defeat on Earth; regain his honor for the loss of his tail. And when the time was ripe, Vegeta would rid himself of the tyrant, Freiza. Oh, he could taste his imminent success already.

In the meantime, Vegeta lounged on a cushioned chair in the ships main control bridge where he spent a short amount of time between rigorous rounds of training. The large, empty room was dark. The only light was emitted from a row of monitors before him that displayed security footage from in and around the craft. Overhead, the glass revealed open space as they rushed into the nothingness towards the Northern Universe, the most likely vicinity to find Kakarot. Staring into the monitors, he tugged at the collar of his navy blue suit before placing his temple against his fist that rested on the arm of the seat. He studied each monitor in boredom.

Radditz was in the cargo bay, pacing in visible aggravation towards their verbal conflict earlier, no doubt. Watching with intense amusement, Vegeta regarded the imbecile with a coarse laugh. The poor fool. When Vegeta lost his tail, Radditz began spending much of his time casting words of criticism towards the prince. It was a repugnant burden and Vegeta's tolerance was quickly waning on the matter. But for now, Radditz didn't pursue any action other than a few defiant remarks and until then, Vegeta would take advantage of his strength.

Nappa, the bumbling idiot, was in the ships emptied galley. Much of the rations had been consumed by now but Vegeta remained unconcerned by it; the hunger made training significantly more disciplined. The large, lumbering oaf was filling a plastic canteen with water. Vegeta had ordered him to gather a small amount of sustenance for their captive.

With a gruff sigh of exasperation, the prince turned his attention to a hazy monitor that displayed the woman's barren prison. He spent much of time viewing this one, he noticed. A camera was embedded in the light fixture and he could see her laying sprawled on the bed. Damn vixen. She lacked decorum even when he had questioned her. She was so prepared for the death that he would inevitably bring upon her... What did she know? Whatever it was, he would pry it from her foul mind somehow. Then, he would do away with her burdensome presence forthwith. She was far too distracting.

Vegeta looked on absently, studying her as she lay nearly nude and lifeless. The disobedient mouth on this creature; a lowly whorehouse did not suit her. He gave a low, scornful growl in her direction.

Nappa, arriving at her chamber, motioned at the touch pad outside. After a moment, the door slid open, startling the skittish woman and she sat up instantly. She instinctively backed into the corner of the bed. Giving her a few choice words, the large Saiyan dropped the canteen and a loaf of stale-looking bread on the floor and exited the room, closing the hatchway behind him.

Vegeta observed as she studied the meager offering with suspicion from afar, like a rodent, before crawling off the bed and onto the floor. After a short moment of inspecting the water, she drank it insatiably and gnawed at the bread. she reminded him of a caged beast, lacking in higher thinking. Pitiable creature. When she finished her feasting, she held the canteen in her hand and examined it for a while. Then, as if struck with a sudden bout of vigor, she threw the plastic against the metal door and it visibly cracked when it ricocheted to the other side of the room and rolled under the bed. She crawled back onto the mattress and disappeared under a grimy sheet.

Standing, Vegeta awarded the little show with an predatory chuckle. Descending down the hallway towards her chamber, he expected her to have some of that newly found energy waiting for him.

_oOo_

**I should have stated this previously but I, in no way, support domestic violence or violence of any kind! But in the world I've tossed our poor heroine**

**in, it's to be expected. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'll be swift in updating. Thanks as always! **


	3. Water

**It is wonderful to have you back! I have received quite a few theories as well as some**

**questions about all that is happening so far. I promise to fulfill all these concerns in due time!**

**However, I have been doing my best to address any questions **

**I can that I find in reviews so please ask away! **

oOo

**THE SIEGE**

oOo

**Chapter III**

_**Water**_

oOo

The hardened bread rested heavily in her irritable stomach but the water had been positively refreshing. She made certain to empty the flask completely before smashing against the metal walls, voicing her appreciation. The large Saiyan, Nappa, dropped the paltry scraps and after a few expected remarks offered a final, solemn warning; speak or die. The choice would no doubt lead to the same destiny but the decision to withhold the information Bulma did not have would at least draw out this endeavor long enough for an opportunity of escape to present itself. Whether it would bring more despair upon her, she did not know. Death crept around all corners and she would elude it for a moment longer. Misery was no stranger in the recent months but it was too soon to drive it away. She had to nurture her weakened hope and the chance to be free from these chains would surely come.

Bulma had been ready so many times to greet the ever present element of death. It had crawled into her life when the Siege came, when she was captured and when she had been delivered to Nin. The unforgiving world posed treacherous at every turn yet she survived each time. She had felt the painful, black claws scratch hungrily at her flesh.

She lay once again on the mattress with her stomach momentarily satisfied and rubbed fastidiously at her arms beneath the sheet. She felt dirty and ugly. Her hands returned to her face as she wrestled with the dissonance in her mind. Her hastened thoughts roamed in delirium. She tugged mindlessly at her unclean hair. Guilt tormented her.

_Wherever you are, I hope you're alright_,_Chi Chi_, she thought,_this is all my fault._

When would one of her oppressors return? She struggled to sleep but the growing apprehension kept her heart labored. Tossing and turning, slumber refused to offer a safe diversion from her prison. With a helpless whine, Bulma stood and paced back and forth for a instant only to return to the edge of the bed. Then almost immediately her temperament had her on her feet again, kneading her stomach in anxiety.

"Please," She wailed, rapping her fists against her skull, "I want to go home...!"

No response. No offer of assistance. There were no arms to embrace, no laughter to ease her fear; there was only an odious restlessness as her company. And then her mind went blank.

"Alone, alone. I'm alone. I don't want to be alone," She shook visibly and rambled on, "Please, talk to me. Someone...please. Mom, dad...Yamcha, you please, hold me..."

Eyes wide and nails scraping at numbing skin, adrenaline coursed through her, inciting an unknown fear. Bulma rushed towards the frozen door and scratched at it, but it remained unheeded towards her cries. The sound of a frightened creature rose in her throat, helpless and frantic. Had it been hours or days spent in this prison? Months? Years? She spun swiftly with her back pressed to the cold metal. The blank white and black voids; they went on infinitely.

"Ah!" Two hands struck her face with a sobering smack. Bulma gave her weighted head a tremendous shake and let her body slide onto the floor. What was wrong with her? Was the fear of the unknown only now attempting to steal her? Her mind would betray her if she allowed these possessed thoughts overcome her. A cold sweat quickly retreated and she breathed a pensive sigh. Reality consumed her, revealing a stinging pain at her reddened stomach where she had obsessively scratched. Inwardly, she reprimanded herself. Bulma slumped forward and rested her head against the floor.

A familiar sound filled the room but she didn't bother fleeing to the corner. Heavy gears spun and the metal door rushed open and she waited, motionless.

"You are truly pathetic, woman," Vegeta denounced from behind, "Your horrid shrieking sickens me."

Seemingly appalled by the lack of response, she felt a boot nudge the naked skin of her back. He didn't kick her, though he appeared to be against touching her at all.

"Get up," he ordered and she obeyed only to repel the foot on her back. With her body pressed to the metal bedpost, Bulma folded her arms over her chest and scowled at him.

"Those who visit a whorehouse normally enjoy the screaming," she spat in return.

Insulted, he advanced as if he would assault her and she cringed in preparation. Her reaction must have sufficed, "Tread lightly. I wouldn't waste my momentary hospitality if I were you, lest you enjoy indulging in the grime of that place with the rest of those sullied harpies."

Bulma turned her head away, offended by the comment. They were not the vulgar creatures Vegeta labeled hem to be; they were broken and embittered. And for those that remained alive were impoverished further thanks to her actions. She bit her lip.

"Your offensive stench disgusts me," he snapped suddenly in revulsion, "The wretched scent of debauchery I will not stand for. Stand immediately!"

Vegeta didn't wait for her to respond or obey this time around and instead grasped her by the forearm and jerked her to her feet. Her only available response was to yelp in distaste. When he dragged her out of the room with a tirade of hateful remarks, she was finally able to observe the crafts interior aside from her cramped chamber. A corridor to her left extended to her left as well as in front of her. Many deadlocked doors like her own were on either side of the hallway ahead. The walls were sleek, white and uninviting. The floor was cold under her feet. Nothing here offered any reassurance.

Dragged down the empty hall after him, Bulma felt her heart hasten. His touch was terribly hot. Suddenly, he shoved her ahead of him and ordered her along hurriedly. She advanced cautiously, deciding against making some futile escape down an adjacent hallway. Bulma could hear the volatile man behind her make a comment under his breath. Bulma kept her arms folded tightly over her breasts.

They passed by a large pair of doors and inside she could hear shouting, but Vegeta seemed indifferent towards it. Moments later, he commanded her to pause before a plain looking entryway. A row of foreign letters were displayed on the wall. With tremendous force, he forced her into the room and hovered in the doorway.

"Your time is limited," Vegeta instructed, "utilize it wisely."

Bulma studied the room from where she had fallen to her knees. It was a modestly sized washroom with a row of individual bathrooms along the far wall and several benches between. There were a few articles of armor and undergarments occupying the floor. It was significantly more heated within; it must have been recently used. Warm water settled beneath her feet as she moved across the dimly lit enclosure. Observing with dismay, she couldn't find any other exits from the washroom. Turning, she realized Vegeta lingered, scrutinizing with his usual glare.

Choosing the empty bathroom in the center, Bulma locked herself in to escape his gaze. Inside, she relinquished a heavy sigh to calm her quickly beating heart. The compact room offered all the necessary amenities that she had lacked for some time and after a few minutes of perusing, she advanced towards a sink and mirror. The already battered woman in the reflection staring back was worn and weary; far more so than the woman who stood in the dressing room of the brothel. She winced at a pinched muscle in her neck. Turning away, she examined the small shower; it was round and surrounded with glass. A spigot jutted out from the ceiling. She turned the steel handle next to her and water poured from the spigot with low pressure. There was a timer next to the handle and it sprung forward with the water, indicating the remaining time permitted for use.

Wasting an instant, Bulma glanced at the locked door, fearing Vegeta might attempt to enter for whatever reason. She shrugged off the notion and returned to the shower. She peeled off her remaining undergarments and slipped under the shower head. Though not especially warm, it was pleasantly refreshing. She stood beneath the stream, motionless and mesmerized. Closing her eyes, Bulma imagined herself laying in a large, pearly white tub filled with warm water and listening to it rush from a steel faucet. It was not the cold, sobering fall of the acid rain outside onto the wooden roof overhead or a fleeing bead of sweat on her forehead; it was but pure, cleansing water. Distantly, a woman, her mother presumably, hummed a melodious tune. An inviting fragrance filled her senses. A perfume maybe or a freshly bloomed rose.

Vivid sunlight poured through the opened window. Outside, a brilliant blue sky peaked in. Bulma laid her head back against the tub, relishing in a simple and plain paradise. It was the Earth she had kept safely stored in her memory.

Extending a hand, she desired to touch the rim of the bath, to feel the smooth porcelain. A grating rust greeted her fingertips. No...that's not right. She discovered herself back in the dressing room of the whorehouse. She lay in the large metal tub; it was filled with cloudy, foul-smelling water and blood. The blood; she was covered in it. The taste of iron filled her mouth. She noticed that she was crying as she rushed to escape. Screaming, she tripped and the tub tumbled, spilling grimy water on the an already grimy floor. All around her, women; dead, dying and the sweet humming became pained howls of agony. The woman with the cigarette lay lifeless, face down in the water with the still burning butt between two haggard fingers.

The silhouette of a nude woman gyrated in the blinding gaze of a carmine spotlight. She stepped upon the human stage with strained poise. She escaped the light in her macabre display, treading upon lamenting beings. The woman suspended herself in a contorted pose to stare at Bulma. Her blue eyes were void of life and her body was charred. Blackened blood pooled upon the body at her feet. And she screamed as she fled for the shadows.

A sinister laughter filled Bulma's head and she placed both hands to her face, praying for this nightmare to end. The chuckling became warped and sporadic until it was nothing but a monotonous bleeping. Eyes fluttering open, she found herself back in the shower. The water had since ceased and she stood naked, frigid. The timer complained loudly and it had summoned unwanted company to the locked door. There was a heavy rapping beyond.

oOo

He had waited long enough. The poor fool had holed herself inside to evade him but it would serve her as haven no longer. Having been supplied all the necessary resources, she had no excuse to avoid relenting the information he desired. Vegeta planted a heavy fist against the locked door and a concave indentation appeared in the metal. Another impression and it yielded and the door swung ajar. Torn from its track, it hung crookedly. The coward stood doused, clutching a soiled towel to her being. She regarded his intrusion with wide eyes of fright. Her energy fluctuated wildly.

"I've quickly run out of patience with you, woman," he declared as he took a step forward. The creature stood motionless like prey endeavoring to escape its inevitable demise by an approaching predator. She was vulnerable; at her most prepared to relinquish Kakarot's location in exchange for her own life. He would provoke that instinct.

A dense cloud of vapor fled past him, dampening his senses. The hanging lamp fixture overhead swung precariously, casting harsh light and thick shadows around the tiny dwelling. The sound of dripping water reverberated on the walls but it couldn't mask the hushed whimpers that escaped the woman's throat. A pool of water trembled at her feet.

The woman remained silent. Her lips were parted and her intake of air was audible and hastened. Surely, her heart struggled to compensate. Her strange, blue hair stuck messily against her round face and throat. Her legs and jaw trembled noticeably against some unknown cold in this heated chamber. Her fear of him was so tangible it fascinated him immensely, dangerously so. Vegeta circled her slowly and her head followed, monitoring his actions.

"I believe I've appeased your needs for the time being," Vegeta said as he paused to stand behind her and study her backside, "and the time has come for you to do your part. I expect that you've given my warning just consideration."

The woman didn't respond and instead surveyed him vigilantly through her peripherals. Her energy had steadied and a vacant expression blanketed her face. The resistant temperament Vegeta had monitored must have returned. A long moment of silence ensued. She had straightened her posture when he had approached; she was prepared to defend. Certainly, she would combat him. How laughable. Her careful gaze watched him as he studied her bare skin. She was malnourished; it was more noticeable when she stood erect. Several fresh bruises adorned her back and legs; whether they emerged during her short stay in their presence or from the time spent on that ragged planet, he preferred not to know.

Curious of her response, Vegeta extended a hand to press his fingertips to the back of her neck and she instinctively spun on her heels to reprimand him with a fierce scowl. Her hands had clenched the towel in front of her with intense resentment. The warmth of the room and visible embarrassment contributed to the redness growing in her gaunt cheeks. She glanced to the opened doorway as if contemplating a futile escape and he waited, anticipating her attempt with partial fervor. However, she must have decided against it and instead, stood her ground.

"I have, as a matter of fact," she announced curtly as she wrestled with the towel. She wrapped it around her slender form whilst shielding herself from his view as she continued on with her foolish claim, "And since I am the only one able to tell you anything about _Goku_, I expect some better treatment around here."

With fists tightly clenched at his sides, Vegeta could feel the ounce of patience he had for this insolent woman being tested. A miserable cretin, such as she, deserved nothing of the sort but the conniving woman knew she had what they wanted and her life was protected while they needed it. Vegeta would have to correct her on this notion. She tied the fabric into a tight knot over her chest and folded her arms with an intense air of prevalence. She opened her mouth as if to perpetuate her impudent blathering, but he wouldn't have it; not from one so inferior. He lunged for her and the arrogance she had previously flaunted drained from her face. She screamed as he forced her against the wall, pinning her scrawny hands over her head. The fixture above swung wildly upon the impact, casting an ominous glare onto her face. She tuned her head away to avoid his shouting.

"Foolish woman!" Vegeta snapped with boiling fury, "You think yourself so indispensable? Hah! You are more troublesome than you're worth!"

He relinquished one of his hands to grip her jaw and force her head to face him. The tension in her feeble muscles was taut and strained as she struggled to repel him. For several long moments, she regarded him with deep, tormented eyes; tears emerged around the widened orbs. The pupils shifted frantically and midst his aggravation, a tangible excitement swelled. Then, to his astonishment, defiance erupted in her profound, cerulean eyes. A strange smile spread across her face.

"Even if I told you," she adjusted her jaw against his grip, "you wouldn't ever be able to defeat him."

Vegeta stared on into her face, infuriated. A growing grin on her face showed she relished in his stupefied reaction.

"Wherever Goku is, he is stronger than ever before!" The wretched woman shouted, "And stronger than you! If I were to tell you, I could die happily knowing he would destroy you in the end...!"

"And die you will, filthy bitch!" No more. She was a burdensome harpy and she would haunt him no longer. The sound of her horrid voice would finally be dashed and her corpse left to float in an empty space for all eternity. If Kakarot lived on, Vegeta would find and eliminate him himself.

His grip left her jaw and she jerked her head away. A triumphant expression crossed her features but it quickly drained to white when she observed him raise his free hand over his head. He forced himself to focus through his own fury. A brilliant glow filled the room and an electrifying orb of energy rested in the palm of his tensed hand. The hanging door trembled in the rapidly growing power. The concentrated energy swelled and erupted, sending a sonic wave that had the petrified woman screaming until her cries were hoarse. Her flaccid body slid down to the floor as she gazed up at the Saiyan and the raging orb above him, mesmerized. The rippling blue light blanketed her awestruck face.

The energy expanded and the water upon the floor rippled and climbed the walls. A suspended drop collided with his cheek. The glass surrounding the shower shattered. A pounding reverberation battered his eardrums and he observed her with wicked delight as she clasped both hands over her ears. Water splashed against her face but it went unheeded. A laugh erupted in his throat. The impact could obliterate the ship but the realization was beyond Vegeta's comprehension now. His anger blinded him and fueled the tempest of energy that he had unleashed. If his volatile temper was not controlled, they would perish if not by the blast then by the suffocating vacuum of space.

"Kakarot will never best me, the prince of all Saiyans!" He shouted over the quivering reverberation and with a vicious laugh, he loosened his grasp upon the orb.

In a final, instinctual attempt for her life, the woman shielded her head and prepared for her demise.

oOo

The time had come. After two long years of crawling through the shadows, Bulma would face her demise at the hands of the men who brought devastation upon her way of life. The turbulent energy burned her face and she closed her eyes. Time stilled, allowing her to divulge in her final moments of her fallen existence.

It had been only a few months following Radditz's escape when the stars began falling from the nights sky. They had arrived during upon the darkest side of the planet, colliding with the earth like meteors. Colossal, foreign vessels of all sizes rained onto the planet like a plague. It had started, at first, as a tense onslaught as smaller cites were plundered. And as the weeks wore on, the monsters swarmed East City and exterminated the remaining life.

Goku struggled with the realization that he had been devastatingly wounded by his brother. He tried in earnest to contribute to the fight but it was fruitless. One by one, the heroes faltered; unable to protect the abundant planet they called home from the horde that had come to swallow it. Bulma could do nothing but hide away with her family in the safety of Capsule Corporation's subterranean asylum. And for weeks, she lived amongst the shadows, listening to the pandemonium above her head. The fate of so many loved ones were cast to the winds.

In the days that followed, she along with Yamcha ventured into the unknown of the world above. It was desolate; the city she had adored was reduced to rubble and debris. It had been a dangerous chore but it was necessary. Those who survived against the attack reached out to Capsule for assistance, for refuge. In that time, she risked her life for the sake of those left in the dust, leading them to an alleged Promised Land. Within the walls of Capsule, the humans slowly flourished. But it had been a shameful existence and it wore on her.

Time carried on and a name was whispered from the bellies of the homeless, starving and broken. _Freiza. Lord Freiza; The one who would cast an eternal winter upon all the worlds of the universe._

Why come to Earth? What from Earth had captured his unwanted attention? Bulma had always assumed it had been Goku. Perhaps Radditz had spun a vivid yarn of a warrior far more powerful than himself, more powerful than Freiza.

Then the fateful day came. She and Yamcha, along with a few other brave souls, journeyed back onto the hellish battlefield in search of survivors. It had been unusually quiet that day. The only humans they discovered were long since slain. And as the sun began to fall over the derelict buildings in the distance, the small troop prepared to return home in defeat. Suddenly, the sky filled with a dense fog and a screaming siren pierced the silent necropolis. She remembered coughing and gasping for air. Yamcha screamed her name. A black void followed. The events that followed on Earth after her disappearance were a hazy mystery.

When she woke, she lay staring up at low, ghastly clouds. Burning ran battered her face. She lay naked in the mire. And the months followed as such. It had been a small victory when a familiar woman had been delivered to the Nin. She remembered Chi Chi when she was first trafficked through the large, black doors. She was wild and angry; she was as unsubdued as ever. From then on, Bulma kept her close in hopes the opportunity for refuge presented itself.

It had but not in the way she had dreamed. Her refuge would come as a cruel demise from above. Staring into death's looming eyes, she waited readily.

Suddenly, some tremendous force collided with the spacecraft. The abrupt propulsion shifted the ground beneath her and she was thrown ahead. The prince, in simultaneous astonishment, was slung backwards into the shower and his body cushioned her as she was swept forward. The massive energy he had summoned suffered from his broken concentration and was launched past her; it clashed with the adjacent wall and bore through it easily. It was reduced to a minor explosion in the washroom outside, but the scream of the explosion was deafening. Bulma discovered herself screaming.

The formidable shaking had yet to cease and another motion tossed her onto her back and Vegeta followed on top of her. He was first to regain his composure. Swiftly, he rose to his feet and shuffled towards the doorway. The ship steadied and Bulma struggled against the nausea in her stomach. She pushed herself onto her hands and knees, momentarily relieved that the floor was beneath her again. Broken glass had sliced her fingers but she was numb to the feeling. Vegeta was shoving his way through the overturned benches in the washroom; he was shouting for Nappa and Radditz. There was a severe rumble and the sink next to her cracked, spraying foul water.

Grabbing onto the crooked door, Bulma pulled herself to her feet and made her way out of the bathroom. The washroom was completely destroyed; the doors of the remainig bathrooms were blasted from their hinges. She didn't have the time to comprehend how that blast had it been at its fullest potential; she didn't have the time to comprehend much aside from seeking safety for that matter. But where? Her only instinct told her to tail her would-be murderer. Vegeta was ahead, making his way through the hallways. A think smoke was pouring in from an open doorway at the end of the hall. The familiar rumbling she had come to know from her room was significantly louder now. Lumbering engines within complained, belching noxious smoke.

Bulma emerged from around a corner and nearly collided into Vegeta, who stood rigid as he looked onward. Though she couldn't see his face, she could sense a faint apprehension.

"Well, what do we have here?" A grotesque purple creature stated from down the empty hallway. He wore armor similar to Vegeta though he wore a thick white breastplate, broad yellow shoulder plates and a pair of peculiar green boots. Over one eye, he wore a green scouter. Two antennae on either side of his neck twitched excitedly.

The creature made a high-pitched laugh as he spoke, "It's good to see you again, Vegeta! But it looks like I may have interrupted more...important matters!"

"Cui, you bastard, what the hell are you doing here?" Vegeta snapped as he adopted a combat pose.

"I wish I could say it were on more friendly matters," The purple man admitted sarcastically as he placed both hands on his hips, "but I'm afraid I am here to put n end to your little charade!"

Vegeta made a low growl in disdain; his clenched fists shook visibly. Armor clad aliens filed in from behind Cui, all brandishing crude grins.

"Lord Freiza is aware of your defiant, little misadventures as of late and he has decided he is no longer in need of you services," Cui seemed as if he could hardly contain a wicked laugh. His scaly skin stood on end as he smiled, "I am here to relinquish this ship from your command and...to personally eliminate you!"

Suddenly, Bulma was surrounded by two muscular arms. An obese creature yanked her off her feet as she screamed in terror. His arms were wrapped tightly around her throat in an attempt to strangle her. She could hear the sounds of a skirmish erupting in the hallway as unconsciousness swiftly approached.

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**Thanks for reading!**


	4. Choices

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**THE SIEGE**

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**Chapter IV**

_**Choices**_

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There was a shattered light fixture overhead. Bulma felt fragmented glass on her face. The neighboring bulb flashed rapidly; she focused on it. The massive arms surrounding her throat in a deadly embrace torqued her head upward towards the ceiling. Mouth agape, she gasped for a breath. The devilish chortle in her ear was drowning in the piercing clamor of her own curtailed consciousness. Perhaps fate would allow her to slip into a peaceful oblivion this time. The armored man shook her wildly as he shouted with thunderous roar. Brilliant hues were thrown onto the flickering light from afar. A soundless shiver reverberated through her body. Her white-knuckled hands clutched the towel around her chest until they were void of all sensation. In her own swimming mind, Bulma viewed herself disembodied, drifting in an empty, silent dimension. Every now and then, an intrepid turbulence hammered her incorporeal form, tossing her like a rushing wave.

Her head swung and her familiar human body struck a hard, sobering surface. Coldness pouring into her skin and bead of perspiration dripped onto the floor. There was a discernible quaking beneath her, shaking Bulma awake. Oxygen flooded her chest. Eyes wide, she studied a bloodied, armored monster was backed against the wall. The hulking, green fiend had an expression of overt dismay upon his plump, leathery face. He continued to shout at something beyond her with a foreign dialect.

As cognition returned, Bulma could her other voices along with sounds of a heated confrontation. Spinning her head, she observed two figures as they engaged in a barrage of illuminated strikes. Vegeta was standing over a crumbled purple creature who glared up at the prince in contemptuous defeat. Two additional soldiers stood beyond them, watching in silent disdain. Surely, they awaited the order to strike. Then, with an abrupt motion, the purple man thrust a hidden fist towards Vegeta and a vivid, green energy flared from his grasp. It tore through to the upper deck. With momentary surprise, Vegeta parried the blow and took a few choice steps back. Standing only a foot or two from her now, Bulma noticed his labored breathing, though his stubborn stature seemed to insist he mask it.

The purple man rose to a knee then onto his feet where he stood half bent at the waist as he struggled for a breath. The antennae sagged in exhaustion.

"Foolish monkey," the creature admonished, "I've looked forward to killing you for sometime and I promise I will enjoy it. So fight all you wish but you will not be escaping this ship alive!"

"Those are some brave words," Vegeta replied with a wild laugh as he crossed his arms as if mildly inconvenienced by their unwanted company, "Well? Are you going to just stand there?"

"You wretched cretin!" Cui charged at him and was greeted with a swift jab to his scaly face. He recoiled with a hiss but quickly countered with a second blast; Vegeta evaded and the beam shot over Bulma and she yelped whilst shielding her head. An echoing roar filled the corridor and the monstrous creature who had nearly strangled her slumped onto the floor in a thickening pool of blackened blood. A gaping laceration bore through his chest. His shouting calmed and his labored breathing stilled.

Bulma backed against an adjacent wall, eluding the spreading liquid in revulsion. The stench was stifling. Undeterred, Cui lunged for Vegeta again and this time, the prince caught him by his extended arm. With a nimble turn, he heaved the purple man against the wall next to them. The impact was enough for Cui's scrawny form to bore completely into the room within. He struck some object with a yowl. Without further instruction, the remaining men advanced towards Vegeta and he engaged them with enough strength to repel them both. One, a burgundy, reptilian alien with a foots length over Vegeta, aimed a peculiar firearm at the prince. But before the creature could react, Vegeta struck him hard against his toothy jaw and he rebounded with a hiss. Another jab and the alien was thrown down a far stairwell where he remained. The cowardly second soldier, a squatty frog creature, had already retreated back down the corridor, dropping his weapon in the process. As he stumbled with a pitiable squeal, he was engulfed in a sudden blast of energy from behind and was left in a heap on the ground.

Vegeta remained alone in the corridor with his hand extended; a hazy vapor slowly diminished from his fingertips. He laughed wickedly. With her legs pulled to her chest, Bulma remained still and silent. She feared he would exterminate her along with the others if the slightest motion were made. He would tend to his unfinished business with her.

An amber cautionary light began signaling and padded doors began descending upon the stairway entrance. Bulma made the assumption that oxygen was leaking from the ship. Vegeta turned suddenly and regarded her with a sullen frown. He studied her for a moment and she stared back in return, petrified. The warning call continued to ring, urging all to evacuate. Then, the electricity faltered, leaving the only light to be the rapidly blinking amber light. The red light illuminated his face, magnifying his scornful expression.

He advanced a single step towards her. Then suddenly, an extraordinary light exploded from the gaping opening in the wall and marvelous energy struck Vegeta as he swiftly whirled to engage it. A moment too late and it struck him in the abdomen. Even he could not resist a cry in agony. The radiant glow receded but as the amber flash came and went she watched as he held his side in an attempt to coagulate the dribbling blood. A familiar screeching laughter emitted from the darkened rift. Vegeta slinked back, bent over as he grasped his abdomen. His expression was cross as he glared at Cui, who emerged from the shadows.

Standing fully erect, Cui held both arms out wide as if basking in the repeating flash of carmine light. His armor was tattered from the previous onslaught and the scouter still on his face was visibly cracked.

"And here I expected far more from such a smug _prince_," Cui remarked through a low, growing chortle.

Vegeta said nothing in response and instead, barred teeth either from anguish or contempt. He looked on, seeming to wrestle with the urge to drop to both knees. Bulma was stunned that the single strike was enough to debilitate him and she struggled with relief and concern for him. She remained silent, praying that when each flash of garish light came, Cui would not notice her. She could hear another deadlocked door closing somewhere beyond the corridor.

"It appears time is running out for you, monkey," Cui stated with arms crossed, "I never understood what Lord Freiza's fascination with keeping you apes was. But what a splendid day, when that filthy planet was was finally demolished!"

Vegeta remained silent still but resentment swelled on his face. He averted his gaze for a moment. Blood dripped at his feet.

"And finally now!" The purple creature added with a swooping motion of his lanky arms, "Finally I can rid myself of you primitive beasts! But worry not, Vegeta, for soon you will rot in hell alongside your pathetic father and the rest of your savage brethren!"

His heinous laughter reverberated against the walls, eclipsing the scream of the siren. The creeping sound nipped at Bulma's flesh and she hugged her legs to fight off a growing chill. With his head upturned as he mused over his own farce, he failed to evade the prince as he lunged for his throat and with a wail of astonishment, his head struck the floor with a loud clamor. With the flashing light behind him, Vegeta and his insufferable victim were concealed by blackened shadows. And through Cui's incoherent cries of agony, she watched in horror as a shadowy fist rose and fell, striking a skull she could not see with a sickening _thump_.

It was only until the anguished cries finally ceased did he halt his incessant pounding. He sat for several long moments as if mesmerized by the shrieking siren. Bulma had both hands over her mouth to restrain both the urge to vomit and scream. A silent, nameless demon seemed to loom, casting darkness on Vegeta's face and shielding an expression of enmity she did not wish to see. Perhaps he looked on, at her and the not knowing made her shiver uncontrollably. Her shaking hand fell into a pool of blood. Crouched, his silhouette haunted her like a nightmarish ghoul in some horror flick. Like a child, she covered both eyes and waited in staggering anticipation for something, anything to happen. The viscous substance smeared upon her cheek.

Through her fingers, Bulma observed as Vegeta rose slowly, letting the dull flash flow between his feet and onto the unrecognizable corpse. A foul black liquid poured around his once polished boots. The mangled cadaver lay lifeless as he stared down at it. Then, he stepped forward to crush the mangled skull beneath his foot before stalking past her without a word. As he ventured sluggishly down the corridor, he entered the glow of the amber light. His arms were encased in Cui's putrid blood and he had one hand still coddling his hemorrhaging abdomen. With his other hand pressed to the wall for support, he vanished around the curvature of the passageway.

Bulma sat alone in the darkness among the corpses, Panicked, she swiped her bloodied band against the towel. Her heavy heart pounded in his chest. All this senseless killing... for greed? He had slaughtered them all single handedly. She observed the mutilated body Cui, who had provoked the Saiyan too far and was reduced to a disfigured heap upon this doomed ship. With only the blinking light overhead and the call of the siren, the eeriness tormented.

With arms wrapped around her legs, Bulma rocked back and forth, frightened by her own hushed sobbing. What was she to do? The impervious urge to survive insisted that she hunt for an exit but her stubborn apprehension left her hopeless. There must be some sort of emergency escape route. Overhead, footsteps pounded against the upper floor. Freiza's soldiers; certain to be far more of threat when they discovered their slain brethren. The clamor of feet erupted within the stairwell afar as approached. Bulma gazed into barren corridor after Vegeta.

Between this proverbial rock and hard place, she weighed her options. Laying helpless in the carnage of this damned craft was certain annihilation. A familiar realization. But to pursue him? Should she approach him in his current state, Bulma risked immediate death. However, his intense animosity for his tyrannical overlord and his obedient followers had been so very tangible. A trait she herself shared. Furthermore, Cui's incriminating final remarks had struck a deeply concealed nerve with ease and the consequence was obscenely candid. No bright, brilliant lights to shamelessly flaunt ones prowess. No further brash words to be spoken.

Bulma held a hand against her swooning skull; time waned and the thud of nearing danger approached. She was without any other option now. She rose to her feet, remaining hunched to steady herself against the tremble of the ship. Clasping both hands over her ears, she advanced into the shadows of the corridor. The siren wailed. Soon, the impending vacuum would stifle the cacophonous sound. Another blind step and she felt gelatinous liquid crawl between her toes. She gagged audibly.

A creeping panic at the skin of her neck slithered down her spine. Bulma scrambled down a winding hall with hands still pressed to her ears. Distantly, another flashing amber light signaled. The coarse glare illuminated a nearby doorway. The sliding door stood half open, hollow of necessary power. She passed the washroom; the destroyed chasm exhaled a strong scent of singed metal. Inside, she could see her abandoned lingerie laying upon the floor. Coated in a heavy layer of soot, she knew it would be best left there to remain lost in the void. It was but a renounced memoir of a former life now.

Bulma could hear shouting beyond her clasped hands and she pressed on. They must have discovered the dead and their mundane mission would quickly become relentless manhunt. Bulma recognized her surroundings. A far would be her confined chamber. She could go there and shrink onto the uncomfortable bed to await death. But she paused at a wide set of doors forced ajar. She recalled passing here before. Peering around the crudely broken door, Bulma studied a wide hanger. An emergency monitor near the entry way counted down rapidly; foreign digits appeared as fleeting blips upon the illumined screen. Only a few lights shown far overhead along with another flashing amber light. The hanger was filled with control monitors; some lit with foreign warning signals and others completely void of life. Beyond them, down a short stairwell, was a single spherical pod. It was bitterly familiar to her. The auburn light flashed upon its polished exteriors ominously.

Half bent over a monitor, Vegeta examined the pod. He reprimanded it audibly as he shifted a bloodied hand over the surface of the monitor. She swallowed hard as she forced her shaking legs to carry her into the room. The fear of the unknown had her thoughts spinning. Run and face an eternity floating in empty space. And stay to appeal to his mercy if it existed? I would be simple to give up now but she couldn't yet. Chi Chi... her death would have been for naught.

Standing atop the stairwell, she mustered up her reluctant courage. The ship rocked abruptly and she placed an instinctive hand against a nearby computer. A warning signal leaped upon the interface and a grating din alerted her sullen company. Bulma wrenched her hand away as if burnt. She stepped away spontaneously.

Vegeta said something through gritted teeth as he turned swiftly to study her with a odious glare. He went on to denote crassly, "I want nothing more to do with the likes of you, human filth, and with great relief. Go or I'll kill you and I will certainly not be interrupted this time."

With that, he returned to the glow of the monitor.

Naturally, Bulma considered his warning. A relentless grasp urged her to obey but a familiar stubbornness within encouraged her. Swallowing to alleviate her dry throat she struggled with her words but the despairing tone betrayed her, "And if I told you how to find him...?"

"You've spent your opportunities," he replied shortly without turning to acknowledge her, "it wouldn't spare you regardless. Now go!"

Bulma felt a pang in her chest. The approaching sound of footsteps grew.

"The truth is..." she cleared her throat and tightened her grip around the dank cloth around her chest, "I don't know where Goku is...or even if he is still alive."

Vegeta made no response and went about his abuse of the monitor. A red alert upon the screen argued with him. She fought with the fleeting air to gain a breath of bravery.

"But I still know a way to bring him back either from hiding," a shiver trickled down her arms and she averted her head to her feet, "or from the dead."

Bulma noticed him pause and slowly turn again to face her, piqued by her rash confession. His sudden attention filled her chest with anxious excitement. She forced a glance at his face, but his expression was as cross as ever though curiosity emerged on his brow.

She went on to add with a thin voice, "And it's certain to work. Before I was taken from Earth, we were going to use the same method to bring him back. I don't know if they have already succeeded..."

Her cheeks were flushed. Truly she felt ashamed to reveal this to him, an _enemy_. It would have been Earth's final resort to reverse these tragic events and she gave it up for her own sake. The woman she was two years ago would have done so without the slightest thought. But now, she realized, she may have doomed the future of all that remained on the fallen planet. She felt disgust creep upon her flesh. She wiped her wet dampened hair away from her face in an attempt to hide an involuntary expression of revulsion at her own actions. After a moment, her gaze returned to him. He seemed skeptical as if fearing his own naivety.

"Why should I believe you?" He arched a brow. She noticed he no longer coddled his wound and let it freely bleed down his side. He went on, "I could easily abandon Freiza and the entire northern galaxy if I chose so why would I adhere to your confession?"

Bulma weighed her answers. She decided to play upon his recklessness.

"I'm telling you this is the only way to fight him again," She forced a wry smile, "I don't think you would pass that kind of offer up, would you? I mean, what do you have to lose?"

"Then tell me how."

"No!" She exclaimed far too loudly in frustration, "All the means to get Goku back are there on Earth, but you have to take me or I won't tell you anymore."

Vegeta stole a few moments to contemplate but he cast a wary glance behind her towards the open entryway. His hunters approached, ripe with vengefulness. He seemed to make his decision quickly, as she expected.

"And if your little plan were to fail," He murmured darkly, "know it is the very life of your planet that is the price to pay."

"It won't," Bulma replied matter-of-factly as she descended the stairwell as an old feeling of pride over swaying him swelled in her chest. It was quickly extinguished by her own disgrace. He faced the pod and its control panel once more. He studied her from the corner of his eye.

"I assume it is to your planet you suggest I go then?" Vegeta replied with reluctant compliance as his bloodied fingers swept across the interface.

She made a motion to reply with heavy vanity but before the words could leave her lips a wicked growl danced against the tall walls. Both she and Vegeta spun to face a roguish group of armored soldiers. Each more terrifying than the last. They were already descending the stairwell when one, the new-found leader, exclaimed with a raspy voice, "You will pay for what you've done, foolish monkey!"

He was a thin serpent creature with claws extended. A black tongue emerged from his scaly mouth. He, along with two others, lunged for Vegeta who promptly repelled them with a vivid blast from his left hand. The action was visibly taxing on him. With a hiss, he returned to the monitor and tapped at the screen. A final motion and the pod's hatchway flung upward and the compressed air within rushed out. Bulma retrained a yelp as she scrambled a few feet away with both hands grasping the safety railing. The prince spun abruptly to dispatch an approaching soldier with swift kick to the abdomen. The soldier crumpled with a yowl. Vegeta coddled the wound at his side once more. He regarded her with a scowl.

"Idiot," he snapped, "get in before you waste all of our time!"

With unheeded abidance, Bulma crawled into the pod. Her hands fell upon the cushioned interior with caution. Further shouting erupted as she turned to sit against the back of the pod. She folded both legs against her chest. Brilliant light filled the inside of the pod as a soldier was heaved against the back wall of the hanger. He lay, lifeless. Moments later and Vegeta was in the entryway of the pod. Behind him, anguished cries and shouts of damnation called after them.

Bulma hunched herself against the wall of the pod. A fierce shake engulfed the pod and she folded her arms around her head. Vegeta was shouting something incoherent either at her or at the shouting soldiers outside the pod's closing hatchway. A few moments of stillness followed. She felt him shuffling in the confined space beside her but she dare not move. The hushed shouts wore on.

Then suddenly, a tremendous pull tossed her forward against the hatchway. Momentary suspension in the slowly pressurizing chamber left her incredibly nauseated. Finally, she settled on her haunches and studied her surroundings. It had happened so quickly; the pod seemed to slowly glide into a black, empty nothingness. A sweat had built on her forehead. She shivered against the building cold of space. It took several long moments to comprehend that she was barreling through the galaxy towards home. Both apprehension and overwhelming giddiness tossed in her stomach. S

Bulma made the instinctive motion of looking over shoulder as if to peer out some nonexistent back window to see a doomed corpse of a spacecraft. Upon doing so, her roving eyes fell upon her unforeseen companion. He had a breathing apparatus over his mouth and his head was laying lazily against his side of cushioned seating. His eyes were tightly shut.

The scent of blood quickly filled her senses. She quietly spoke his name and it felt improper upon her tongue. He didn't respond and she felt she had perhaps said it wrong yet made no attempt to say it again. Perhaps Vegeta wouldn't fair the journey and would slowly drift into an eternal slumber. Bulma would be hopeful of such, especially if the pod was already programed to take her directly to where she desired. And how he would deserve such a demise. Bulma studied him still. He was breathing, to her misfortune. Maybe he simply slept for the time being. The sudden onslaught must have taken all his remaining energy. Bulma silently reasoned with the overwhelming joy of watching him perish. She would still be suffering a shameful life of debauchery on Nin without him. In some twisted way, she owed something to him.

But it wouldn't be Earth or her life. Though she may have one her ticket home in a strange game of chance, she now faced another problem. She offered something so very precious in return as her fare home.; the Dragon Balls. If they still existed, they would have been Earth's best option for redemption now the were but payment and surely it would bring her more troubles. And how would she protect herself or Earth against Vegeta if she didn't fulfill her promise. She held a palm to her forehead in exasperation.

Bulma turned her head to study him once more. His expression had softened as he fell into a deeper slumber. She would have to think of someway to keep him wreaking havoc. But how...? Laying her head back, she folded her arms around her legs to stave off the coldness. She stared up at a small, glowing bulb overhead and thought.

Home. At least she would be home; even for a moment, that would be enough.

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	5. Remember

**Apologies for the long overdue update, I'll do my best to be more prompt in the future!**

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**THE SIEGE**

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**Chapter V**

_**Remember**_

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_Her father called it the Frozen Hour; the suspended time spent huddled together in the darkness as an unseen carnage rained upon the earth overhead. Soot and dust sprinkled onto her nose. The labored generators were silenced and lights were extinguished. The clamor of many feet upon the metal flooring were absent and the momentary laughter of the few children were hushed. The Capsule subterranean asylum lay hidden beneath the wreckage of mankind, quietly guarding the dwindling life it sheltered. For now, it offered hope for these people. Though they couldn't lay in hiding for an eternity; the day would come when this modest haven would be compromised and the light of day would fill its cramped corridors._

_In the days following the Siege, many lost people found there way into the protection of this place. They desired food, shelter, and a shoulder to cry upon. To weep over their losses. There was little to occupy their times other than their own toxic thoughts. When the warning beckoned, they all gathered here in the main vestibule for the Frozen Hour, to wait and listen. There were now eighty perhaps, or more. Many had been found alone._

_A child nearby coughed audibly; someone, her mother presumably, hushed her. Someone cried softly somewhere afar; a poor, broken creature. So helpless and miserable yet he had been one of the fortunate souls. The fearful anticipation required no words and it filled rose to the low ceilings like a piercing scream. _

_Yamcha sat close nearby. He tugged frequently at his collar as if it were a bind that held him to this place. He had taken this onslaught so personally. The loss of this city had been his own failure. He couldn't protect it in Goku's absence. He sighed loudly and swift jab at his bicep silenced his grumbling but for only a moment. _

_"__I can't just stay here while they continue to ravage this town!" He whispered, only to he shushed by those around him. He would spend days on end scouring the rubble of West City in search of the living. But it would never be enough; to crawl upon the ground in submission rather than confronting their oppressors. She couldn't lose him like the others before him._

_"__And what are you going to do?" She retorted with crossed arms and an upturned nose,"Go out and get yourself killed and that's about it!"_

_"__You never have any faith in me," he replied, softly._

_A harsh boom shook the metal barrings overhead. A child's arms reached for her comfort and she rubbed gently at the tattered shirt on his back as he wept. _

_She shook her head; they would venture once more into the dilapidated frontier outside, in search of survivors and repair the certainly broken solar panels. The asylum would go with out its meager power supply once more. _

_Tomorrow, perhaps. She rubbed gingerly at her forearm. The sounds had gradually faded to nothingness. The temperature plunged as night came. Yamcha wrapped a comforting arm around her and she sighed._

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A penetrating chill jolted her into consciousness and she sat up only to bump her forehead against the curvature of the pod's interior lining. Bulma massaged the ache with a grimace. The pods port featured a bleak emptiness aside from a distant star. It gleamed brightly, longingly. Bulma rested her back against the cushioned seating and folded her trembling arms around her legs once more.

A myriad of emotions swelled in her chest like an angry, rolling ocean. Excitement towards the distant idea of home and fear for the unknown fate that may have befallen it. Fear must have been the strongest contender in her heart. She sat inside a petite, metal craft barreling through open space with a deranged murderer. Her eventful past hadn't seen her in a worse predicament than this.

She averted her head towards the wall, refusing to look upon Vegeta. She was uncertain of how to regard him at this juncture. He had, perhaps solely, spun her recently still and bleak way of life into an upheaval. He was at the forefront of the Seige on Earth, seemingly a eager participant in the bloodshed that occurred though for his own eventual gain. He killed so freely; he had done so on Nin as well. Life had little meaning, perhaps even his own.

He was responsible for Chi Chi's death. Bulma held a hand to her mouth as she fully engaged the fresh memory. He was coldblooded, malicious. He belonged in every was with wicked army that harbored him and even they expelled him; none were exempt from such brutality. And he had known nothing else.

Bulma relinquished a heavy sigh in exasperation as she forced a glance in Vegeta's direction. For now, he remained unconscious in a perpetual cryo-sleep. Under a glowing violet security light, he appeared tranquil. His head rested against the metal sheeted wall nearest him. She sighed once more. He had been her saving grace from a hellish existence on Nin and a certain demise upon the spacecraft, though not without a hefty price to pay. He had become desperate in his struggled life; a feeling that Bulma was only recently becoming accustomed to.

Reluctantly, she leaned across to examine the prince's wounds, surely he wouldn't stir in his current condition. The blood was an oily black under the violet hue and it was coated the cushioning next to him like a wild painting. His elastic, navy uniform was frayed near the sight of the wound and his breastplate had suffered a severe crack across the torso. Though he slept soundlessly and his comatose state staggered the bleeding, his body struggled to regulate his breathing. Helpless, Bulma settled back against the seat. If he survived this journey, he would at least be tolerable while sleeping.

Bulma stared out the reinforced glass and imagined a beautiful, blue sphere approaching. Perhaps, it would be blanketed with ivory clouds. Freiza would destroy it before his soldiers could steal away its simple beauty. Hidden away within its colossal mounts and rolling, green landscapes lay six remaining Dragon Balls. The seventh, with hope, still being in the possession of her father and Capsule. If Kami and in turn, Piccolo, lived, then they lay waiting to be recovered. They would be Earth's final resort against Freiza.

Bulma bit her lips obsessively. She had already offered them to Vegeta in exchange for her passage home. But she would still have to muster up some plan to avoid losing them. Revealing their very existence alone had placed humanity in jeopardy. There was time, still. Now an enemy of his former master, he wouldn't avoid Freiza's soldiers long enough to find them all on his own. He would require her along with Capsule's assistance. For now, she would play the role of leverage herself.

Studying the round control panel beneath the glass, Bulma noticed a rapidly changing set of four, foreign characters. She watched it in anticipation.

oOo

_He had been but a small child when the planet fell into disarray. Young and bitter, he watched as the days passed and his people fell into submission. A few years prior, the chilling moon loomed in the night sky, eclipsing the stars. On that night, the stalemate between the Tuffles and Saiyans was abruptly severed. The throes of war were silenced and the night filled with the howls of giants. The stories seemed fanciful for a small child; the tales that would live on in history! All would bow before the mighty Saiyan race. _

_However, only a year had come and gone and the Saiyans grew restless. So impressionable, he knew only the urge to be liberated of such caged restlessness. No room was there for vulnerability, no weakness. But the anguish would never be erased from the hearts of monsters; the desire for the next battle would never be fully satiated. And it grew in him. As early as his eyes recognized the warm, rosy sky, violence was in his nature. _

_His father, a veteran and a capable king, oversaw this flourishing madness that would ultimately erupt in his people along with his son. Alone now on this planet, they clawed at their flesh for blood again. They were no different than the barbarians they had been a decade past. _

_Then the fateful day, when the stars descended upon the desert scape. The onslaught began with silence; these foreign creatures scrutinized their brutish discoveries with cloaked faces. Uncertainty followed and the young child studied his father's face for an answer. Would war once again follow? His anxious people urged it, yearned for it. Yet there would be no moon; they but snarling beasts wallowing feet above the ground for another 100 years to come. _

_And suddenly, a tempting offer. Come, leave your lonely, empty planet with weapons in your filthy hands and a fresh kill dangled before your savage maw. No longer confined to this forsaken place, you are free to vanquish all that you seek. The price? The price for these lustrous gifts, these towering palaces, and this new-found purpose? _

_Obedience._

_"__Do as I command you and all will be yours!"_

_That would be the tyrant's conclusive statement to these desperate, naive Saiyans. The promise of empowerment over dignity that was so easily relinquished for a prize never truly given. Disposable, ignorant pawns. And only a child would know it until too late. He had such potential and as days wore on into darkening years still, his capability as a warrior thrived. Driven by resentment and a resolute pride, he would attempt to cast off the shackles that enchained him in his youth. He felt overwhelming shame for his father, who would refrain from heeding his son's belligerent warning._

_He was no king; the man this child admired so dearly was but a fraud and the sorrow would dwell in his heart forever. _

_"__You are as weak as those you crush beneath your polished boot," he confessed. _

_"__Foolish child," a roaring, sobering voice would reprimand, "The day will come when our proud race will rise and I will be present at the forefront, for your sake."_

_Soon after, the young royal would be stolen away by their overseers for his passion and ability, sparking a conflict that had been long overdue. At the expense of a child, a race would finally bite the oppressive hand that exploited them. A long, arduous confrontation would engulf his home world and he would be there to watch on from afar. _

_"__What potential you behold, young prince!" His hideous master exclaimed from his high, hovering pedestal. An unmistakable fiend with pale, violet flesh and a painted grin would look upon his unwilling soldier with a charade of compliments. This villain's hulking henchman would be present, ready to dispose of him if and when needed._

_"__You are certainly the strongest of your race and I expect great successes to come of you," the tyrant chuckled, "I hold you in high regard, child, do not disappoint me."_

_Such fleeting regards were always curtailed by a final warning; defy my will and face an unimaginable demise. The same ultimatum for all slaves. He struggled with this realization; he had become what he so severely despised in his people. He had become subservient; without the bloody struggle they craved, he had submitted just as they had. The sorrow grew in his heart still. With two additional Saiyans at his side, he answered his master's beckoning call. Go forth and vanquish all that you seek, in the name of Freiza._

oOo

A resounding ring chirped in Vegeta's skull, badgering him in and out of the hazy threshold of consciousness. He was familiar with the squalling din; for what, the answer eluded him in his stupor. The vivid, torturous images behind his eyelids danced like the repetitious blip on a broken monitor. Over and over, the images leaped to and fro in a crude display between realism and abstraction. A wavy, cream colored shape like a howling moon swept before him. It fluttered like a haggard flag before erupting in such a brilliant explosion enough to make him nauseous. A volatile barrage like fiery rain seemed to rush towards him. The surreal perception of anguish urged Vegeta to raise his fists to defend himself but they did not obey. From the fire formed the frantic form of a weeping, thrashing child. The earsplitting caterwaul carried on in protest. Rocking what he perceived to be his head, he felt tremendous agony as he collided with some unknown, cold object. The writhing images retreated but for a moment.

His delirious mind settled and the whirling lines approached with leisure as if to comfort him. Deep azure hues wrapped like ribbons around a fluid figure. The poised shape with a familiar face preened before his eyes as if for his amusement. A woman's lucid face turned to regard Vegeta with a glowing smile. He felt an alien feeling of contentment so natural he did not question it. A disembodied hand extended to caress his face. She screamed.

A garbled voice shouted through the rattling call of the hazard siren. As his lethargic eyes greeted reality with incorrigible disdain, the voice become clear. The woman, to his great distaste, was squalling with unnecessary volume in his ear. The pain at his side swelled as his nerves suddenly switched on like an electrical grid and he desired so to silence her with brute force but lacked the energy. He closed his eyes again to focus on the pain that racked his head.

"Hey, wake up!" She shouted further, "Please, wake up!"

Vegeta ignored her qualm, but she didn't relent.

"Something is happening!" She exclaimed, tugging at the elastic fibers over his arm, "I can't read what the interface says, but I can tell it isn't good! Please, wake up!"

With provoked reluctance, Vegeta abruptly opened his eyes to scowl at her. However, the wretched human woman remained positively undeterred by his threatening stare and went on to say, "Finally! Please, what is going on?"

The violet light above flashed rapidly, mimicking the siren. Below the pods port, many Acrosian figures appeared on the glowing monitors. In the time spent under Freiza's rule, Vegeta had become familiar enough with the language to recognize the jumbled pattern. These figures very clearly warned of some ship, threatening or otherwise, within the vicinity. A length of Acrosian digits foretold the particular distance relative to the pod's location. The vessel was not visible beyond the pod's port.

Vegeta raised a single, gloved hand to touch the monitor. A clutter of text along with a revolving image detailed the vessel's appearance and size. It was an unmarked craft to their distant left, perhaps pirates or a unaccompanied patrolling crew from a nearby planet. The interface made no indication the vessel would assault the pod. No foreign craft would challenge a Saiyan pod and so the prince dismissed the warning and the squalling siren finally muted. The violet security light returned to a solid, lackluster state.

His intention was to return to sleep, though such a desire would surely go unfulfilled.

"That was a ship?" The woman inquired as she studied the monitor still, "Aren't you concerned that they'll assault us?"

He ignored her again as he swiftly closed his eyes. He would prefer to sleep this awful journey away rather than listen to her further blathering. She was fortunate to escape certain death thus far. Or perhaps he was a complete fool for trusting her farfetched promise. No, it had to be true, it must. For the first time since his forced enlistment, he had escaped Freiza's clutches. It had been unlike how Vegeta had perceived his liberation from the tyrants command, but it would suffice. A pestering feeling of desolation swelled within him and he quickly extinguished it. He would remain resolute; find Kakarot and destroy him then he would know a marvelous strength enough to finally rid himself of the tyrannical Freiza. For now, he would endure his bothersome accessory.

"That's it?" The woman inquired further, in restrained astonishment, "You don't feel any fear at all? You're own allies abandoned you..."

Fear. Allies. No such definitions.

Seemingly woeful over this plight, she became silent, to his relief. Had he the energy, he would laugh heartily at her frail feelings of mournfulness. It were these attributes that made creatures such as her weak and so easily suppressed. No matter, it would be of use to him in the future. The time of retribution approached yet and it would be grand. According to this human, the answer to all his troubles existed on a watery planet not far. A planet well under Freiza's roving eyes; he would need to cautious.

His last visit to planet Earth had been less then a treat. Upon Radditz's return, he had been presented with tales of a powerful Saiyan unlike any he had met along with Radditz's bothersome remarks towards Vegeta's certain inability to defeat this warrior. Within the veil of the oxygen mask, Vegeta smiled wryly. Radditz had only eluded death himself on Earth and now he was but a lifeless cadaver suspended in the void of space with the rest of the wreckage.

Vegeta had made at heightened goal for himself, to find and crush this warrior; it would be a impressive addition to hi many feats. When the news somehow reached the ears of his overlord, it had become a intergalactic race to reach Earth. Freiza himself along with his insufferable puppets made the trek towards the planet and arrived just days following the prince.

The prince felt intense aggravation crawl on his skin. He had been swiftly defeated by the warrior known as Kakarot and was forced to retreat in humiliation. Soon after, the Planet Trade Organization completely overwhelmed and conquered Earth. The fate of it's inhabitants were unknown to Vegeta. He had only been informed by Zarbon that Kakarot had been defeated by Freiza himself. The inclination had been that death befell Kakarot but Vegeta had the nagging notion that he had escaped somehow. To where and how were had been Vegeta's supreme priorities since the fallout. The carefree warrior's seemed to still linger in the prince's perception though he may only be imagining it.

Vegeta's treatment by Freiza and his army had significantly declined following the Seige on Earth. Now a lonesome wanderer, his wound stung along with the words that had accompanied though he did his best to refute it.

"Why do you wish to find Goku?" The woman's abrupt questions shattered the silence. It was soft and meek. It was none of her concern to know his reasoning, so he continued to ignore her. She seemed to not require his response as she went on, "I think I already know the answer. I heard all the Radditz said to you on board the spacecraft."

Her words were hollow, vacant of all emotion as she spoke.

"I didn't hear much about what happened outside of West City, I was doing all I could to help defend my home," She told the story as if to herself, "I had heard Goku and the others were facing most of the carnage though and I wish I could have done more for them. But I think everyone wishes that..."

Silence followed for a moment. Vegeta felt the agitation that crept upon his flesh intensity into a silent rage.

"It happened so quickly too," The wretched woman added as she shifted her weight anxiously, "He had tried his hardest to stave them off but I think he understood he couldn't handle it all. And when he disappeared, it wasn't out of selfishness. I think he risked that knowing he would change it all someday."

Hopefulness grew in her tone.

Vegeta desired to do anything at all to quiet her. She didn't understand what it was to endure such helplessness.

"Perhaps that's just my way of rationalizing it," she concluded coldly, "Who knows what happened to him."

She sighed several times in what sounded like hushed sobs. Vegeta's hands were balled into fists, expending much of his remaining energy. He kept his eyes welded shut as he attempted to expel her from his thoughts. Several hours remained in this journey and it would remain wordless. She kept her tales to herself for now.

oOo

**Thank you as always for reading and please review! **

**I would really appreciate your feedback, I'm always open your ideas!**


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